Dearest Aunt Debbie
In Loving Memory~
The house is quieter now.
Even the walls seem to listen for your voice,
the way it used to wrap around us
gentle, steady, always knowing what to say
even when nothing could really be said.
You were never loud.
But you were present,
like soft light through a curtain,
like a hand resting lightly on your back,
like a warm meal that says “I see you” without speaking.
We never thought we’d say goodnight this soon.
It doesn’t feel right
to walk through a world where you’re no longer
just a phone call,
a visit,
a hug away.
To Uncle Seth,
may God wrap him in the comfort
you once gave with ease.
“Fear not, for I am with you…”
We pray those words hold him
through the long, hollow hours.
To Kwasi and Emma,
they will miss your voice most
in the quiet moments:
after victories,
before decisions,
on ordinary days
when all they need is your nod,
your laugh,
your belief in them.
“Her children rise and call her blessed.”
Yes. We will echo them.
To your siblings,
who knew you before the world did,
who shared your childhood joys and wounds,
this loss cuts deep.
But God heals the brokenhearted,
and piece by piece,
He will bind what grief has torn.
And to everyone,
your friends, your extended family,
the ones you fed, prayed for, checked in on
even when no one asked,
we feel the space you’ve left.
Not dramatic.
But deep.
Quiet.
Real.
Still, even now, we see you,
in the way we treat one another,
in how we hold space for silence,
in every choice to love without condition.
You taught us that.
You are gone, yes.
But not lost.
You are home.
You are whole.
And one day,
we will meet again,
no more tears,
no more goodbyes.
Sleep well, Aunt Debbie.
You were love in human form.
And we will carry you
for the rest of our lives.❤️
Victor & Gloria Akazue